


Vitality

by LilyRosetheDreamer



Series: Journey [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hanzo has a rough start, i think, redemption does not come easy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7433692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosetheDreamer/pseuds/LilyRosetheDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo cannot stop searching but can never see the results from that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vitality

**Author's Note:**

> I like Overwatch a lot, but I can’t help but noticing that some of the writing behind the characters and lore falls a bit…flat for me. It’s still pretty cool though, so I wanted to do some exploration writing with Hanzo Shimada/McBroodyFace. Hope this is okay for people!

Hanzo is.

It’s a hard concept to explain to people who meet him for the first time, so he doesn’t. 

He only lets them see the pent-up grief, guilt and aloofness - it’s easier that way. It’s easier than telling them that he only exists, not lives and that he only searches, never settles. 

That he only hides and never exposes.

He never shares that one night in the rain when he finally awakened from his blindness and saw the blood spattering the wood and his hands and his clothes and his _brother_ -,

Everything burns in dragon fire that night and his home is no longer his own.

He doesn’t talk about Genji. Especially not now, the now that is Overwatch and his brother finding him for the first time in years. The now that is Hanzo lying prone on the decking long after his resurrected brother has left, curled into a ball with his lungs shrinking and his throat blocking all air. The now that has Hanzo scared and small and in denial, but following Genji anyway, a man without his sword and only his bow, standing outside a metal door with his hands clutching a shoulder bag tightly. The now of that door opening and a blonde woman smiling kindly at him.

“Can I help you?”

She must have some suspicions. Genji was…is never one for keeping his affairs to himself. He wants to say something. 

He doesn’t.

( _There are rumours afoot in Japan, of a silent man with only a bow and quiet feet. Of a dragon’s avatar who leaves the scene as he found it - only with dead men as an afterthought. That he rarely stays still and is fleeing the dark suits that skirt outside his door. Hanzo is a myth and the careless fling of a whisper and he prefers that. It hurts less._ )

His dark eyes flick up and down in a hunted manner and she extends her Mercy. Mercy burns like boiling water and he’s afraid.

“Come in,” she says with a pure smile. “I have a feeling someone will be pleased to see you,”

Genji might.

Nobody else will.

* * *

Hanzo’s eyes stare blankly at a fixed point on the horizon as he’s introduced to the Overwatch. His stance is stiff and narrow and he won’t look. He doesn’t even know if he wants to join, he just wants -,

Does he want at all? Is that…allowed?

( _Hanzo is young but he already knows he’s not allowed such trivial things as wanting. He has all the luxuries and the teachings he could want for a future empire and the small voice in the back of his head that cries freedom needs to be cremated. So he learns the Dragon Summoning viciously and quickly, startling even the elders. The perfect leader._ )

He feels eyes scorching his skin and he tears his shuttered gaze away to finally make fleeting eye contact. Hanzo bows and opens his mouth, choking the words underneath and past cool composure and politeness, despite his need to run.

“I am Hanzo and…it is nice to meet you,”

It isn’t.

* * *

Hanzo has never liked being touched. It is rare that he will allow one person into his personal bubble. And this too, is hard to explain. It is not his hard, unyielding personality, his too-serious front (despite what Genji liked - likes to say) and it is not the touch itself, the feel of skin against his or fabric brushing by. 

It’s the weight behind it. A friendly hand from his father has him internally cringing from the expectation. A clap on the back from his brother makes him wonder how long he can still protect him.  A bump from a stranger has him immediately jumping to possible futures, the possible weights and wants and needs they will expect from him and he is already backing away. 

( _The elder gently tips his head upwards to face him with two fingers._

_“Smile, boy,” he laughs jovially. “No need for sour faces here!”  
_

_Hanzo smiles to cover up his swallowed scream._ )

Overwatch is full of touches, of warmth and grins. He’s taken to shrinking his shoulder smoothly out of hand’s reach and flitting in and out of the shadows. He’s most likely being rude and he can’t bring himself to stop; it’s better this way. Zenyatta is one of the few that don’t make this attempt and Hanzo can’t decide whether to be thankful or angry that Zenyatta effectively took over his role as teacher and brother. He won’t do either, for the stress they cause is wearing.

Genji’s watching him from doorways and Hanzo doesn’t think he can stay here for much longer. He quietly destroys everything in his path and obediently does everything the grizzled Soldier tells him to. 

It worries them and reassures him that he’s not causing a scene.

* * *

The archer takes his solitude to the cliff tops and the shady groves surrounding the latest base. The grass pricks his hands but feels calming to run his hands through. It’s a clear blue day and Hanzo’s mind is clearer than it has been in a while with it. Being alone like this is good for him; a rare moment where he can **forget**.

Something trundles behind him and his head swivels like a hawk’s - quick and sharp.

It’s Bastion. Hanzo has little opinion on the other Omnic in the group. It has not bothered him much, too busy curiously exploring most days and rarely being seen around base at all. 

Bastion beeps at him.

“…Hello,” 

His voice is quiet and the robot tilts its head before coming closer. There is a bird on its metal plating and moss in a crevice and he blinks as a silver hand brings forth a tiny pink flower. It beeps again, questioning.

“I -Yes. That’s a flower,”

More beeping and it thrusts the delicate petals closer. 

“I am not well-versed in flowers. I apologise,” he hesitantly says and the Omnic chirrups brightly, tilting the appendage downwards in offering. 

Does it…is this for HIM?

Hanzo raises a hand slowly and gestures to his chest in a timid fashion. Gifts have been given before, but always with a critical eye, with a greedy eyed motive skulking nearby licking its razor fangs.

This seems _untainted._

“You want me to have this?”

Bastion gives a squeal and the bird darts away, wheeling into the afternoon sun. There’s is something inflating Hanzo’s chest, swelling with a shaky warmth and he manages to nod. This hurts, but it’s a good hurt.

“Yes…please,”

His fingers extend for the flower but Bastion beeps and moves behind him. Then something gentle shifts around in his soft hair and Bastion reappears without the flower and beeps in pleased accomplishment. There is a reflection of him in the pool nearby and a pink flower has been placed carefully into his hair, tucked under the ribbon he wears.

Hanzo touches it with wide brown eyes and a thumping heart. Kindness has never felt so tangible and within his reach and for the first time in a long time, he smiles. 

“Thank you,”

* * *

Hanzo approaches Zenyatta with the skittishness of a wild animal and the monk waits patiently, floating in his usual meditation position. Something is stirring within him and Hanzo might want to reach out after all, his hands desperate and struggling to prevent drowning. 

Zenyatta is calm and light and Hanzo can see why Genji took shelter with him. 

“Hanzo,” Zenyatta hums, his voice a lake of peace. “It is nice to see you out and about today. Nature and I are balanced at this moment - a welcome feeling,”

The black-haired man tries to relax his shoulders and kneels neatly on the grass in front of the Omnic monk. His lungs constrict and the panic he’s been trying to hold at bay all morning crushes him, prolonging the silence as he struggles back to himself. Zenyatta touches to the ground and holds out both of his hands. 

“It’s alright,” he soothes melodically as Hanzo gropes out blindly through blurred vision and squeezes those cold hands, panting for air with tingling skin. It’s been a while since he’s suffered a panic attack like this. 

Battle is easier than living. 

Zenyatta works him through it and the archer’s hands become limp in his grasp, his head bowing with exhaustion.

“Hanzo,” Zenyatta’s soft voice comes again and his brown eyes meet his optics. “You cannot move on like this. I already see long-term damage to you through waging war on yourself,”

Hanzo is tired and Zenyatta is a steady anchor. 

He’s had enough of trying to stand on his own.

“Please,” he whispers and Zenyatta nods. 

“You’re wiser than you know, Hanzo Shimada. It takes great strength to ask for help,”

Hanzo thinks of the flower in his hair and Bastion when he leans against him sometimes - the first friend he’s ever known. 

A tiny, tremulous smile is Zenyatta’s answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Done, I guess. It’s still pretty angsty, lol. But I think I’ll follow up to this at some point anyway - show a Hanzo who’s doing better. Anyway, thanks for reading.


End file.
